Gaki-Sempai
by Rick K'Tish
Summary: 13-year-old Kakashi just can't get a break. Such is the way of being Life's plaything. But this takes the cake; teaching stick-waving kids older than him with a baby in tow? Someone's gonna have to pay for this one.
1. Chapter 1

**Hi everybody! It's been... um. A while, shall we say?**

 **Honestly I can give all kinds of excuses- four surgeries in the family within six months, a death, an arrest, and a major car accident that made six news stations ( and yes, ALL of that is true; just ask Kessapearl)- but the long and short of it is that I was frustrated by my grinding into the ground with Tournament of the Treaty and didn't want to risk puttting anything else up.**

 **Well, now Kessapearl is threatening to post all my stories herself, so I guess I'm stuck with this.**

 **Anyway, here's a new, totally unbeta'ed (except by Kessapearl, but she doesn't edit at all, and therefore doesn't count) and kind of weird but hopefully good story. A lot of it has been typed up on my phone, so please alert me to any autocorrect flubs I haven't caught. And so, without further ado...** ** _voila._**

 **Disclaimer: If I owned either of these, the backstories would be _so_ much more painful.  
**

 **Just sayin'.**

It was official: Sarutobi had finally cracked.

It was bad enough that he'd been asked to raise Sensei's son on his own. Because really, it made perfect sense to ask a thirteen-year-old to raise a newborn, right? (Although he had to admit that he'd been a rather uniquely qualified thirteen-year-old, having cared for his father in similar, if somewhat less dignified ways, from the time he was five until the older man's death. But that was beside the point.) Now he was supposed to go on a year-long mission to the Outer Continents... _with_ Naruto?

Brilliant job, Sandaime-sama. Really.

Unfortunately, there was no arguing with the Hokage.

Which was why, at this moment, one Hatake Kakashi was standing in a fireplace, carrying a duffel bag stuffed with sealing scrolls filled with baby stuffs and a nine-month-old strapped over his full armor in a wraparound sling, holding a handful of magic ash.

"Hokage-sama, are you _really_ sure about this?" Kakashi asked on last time, just to be certain. It couldn't hurt, after all.

"Yes, Kakashi-san, they asked for the best." _Nice try, Hiruzen. Flattery won't get you anywhere,_ Kakashi thought. "Besides, I think they will find you... uniquely qualified for this mission." _And just what is that supposed to mean?_

Sarutobi smiled innocently— just to annoy him, Kakashi was sure.

"Now, good luck; I expect reports as regularly as you deem necessary."

Kakashi nodded formally and gave his magic ash one last dubious look before dropping it and saying clearly in his newly acquired language (learned from the books the Sandaime had given him the week before last), "The Burrow."

Everything dissolved into green.

Albus Dumbledore's expression shifted ever so slightly from one of expectancy to one of mild bemusement as the hired help emerged from the Floo into the otherwise empty household of Arthur and Molly Weasley. For some reason, he had expected Hiruzen to send him someone less... unusual.

"You are the client?" The mercenary brought Dumbledore's attention away from the gravity-defying hair.

"Yes," the headmaster picked up without dropping a beat, trying to focus on the one visible eye instead of the rest of the odd outfit. "I am Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore. I believe the code phrase that was agreed upon was _Phoenix Food_ , unless I am much mistaken?"

The ninja nodded, acknowledging the code that officially began the mission. He introduced himself. "Special Jounin Kakashi Hatake, reporting for service to comply with request 'Self-Defense Teacher,' mission parameters including degrees of bodyguard, espionage, and infiltration of allied forces, other parameters to be added as needed. What are my first orders?"

Dumbledore half-nodded to himself, reassured at the man's professionalism. At least that was to be expected, even if nothing else about him— was that a _baby_ strapped to his chest?! Why hadn't he noticed that first?!

Realising the ninja was waiting for a reply, Dumbledore shook himself from his stupefied distraction to issue instructions. "We will proceed to the current safe house of our organization, as this one is not presently in use. There I will introduce you to the Order of the Phoenix, and in about a week's time you will meet the primary target as well as several of the secondary targets. You will be introduced to them as 'Professor Hatake,' instructor for our new class at Hogwarts, 'Wandless self-defense.' Your role may be explained to them at a later time if necessary, but until it is deemed so, you will remain only the new professor to them."

Hatake nodded in acknowledgement of the instructions. Dumbledore held out his arm. "Now, if you will take my arm, I will transport us to the safe house."

Without question, the ninja nodded and placed his hand on Dumbledore's forearm. That was what he loved about ninja: their professionalism. Then he twisted around and they were gone.

The Order of the Phoenix waited with bated breath in the dining room of Number Twelve Grimmauld Place. Dumbledore was supposed to be arriving with "A professional of his trade" who he'd gotten through some old acquaintance or other to come an help them. Only Moody seemed to know what he was talking about, and he grumbled incessantly.

Finally, they heard the front door open and close, but only one set of footsteps entered. Uncertain glances were shared, followed by a collective blink as Dumbledore walked in with perhaps the oddest person any of them had ever seen— and that said something, considering who was present.

"This is Kakashi Hatake, the operative my friend Sarutobi has sent to aid us this year. He will be the teacher of the new Self-Defense class. He has also been tasked with guarding Harry and the rest of the school for the duration of this year. Are there any questions?"

Silence reigned for several moments as everyone took in the appearance of the stranger. He was extraordinarily short, for a wizard— only about 150 cm, although the silver-gray hair appeared to add another seven at least. He wore an odd arrangement of sleeveless black under even more sleeveless white, with what appeared to be arm guards that reached almost to his shoulders and covered his hands like fingerless gloves. His loose cargos were wrapped in bandages halfway up the calf with black bandages, and a white bandage wound around one thigh, holding a pouch in place for ease of access. His sandals seemed odd in the dreary english weather they all knew lurked outside, but even more oddly, the black undershirt's neck reached all the way up and over his nose, concealing the bottom half of his face completely except for the shape of his jaw. A headband wrapped around his forehead concealed another quarter of his face, leaving only one unwrinkled eye visible.

And then, of course, there was—

"He yours?"

Much of the room blinked at Tonks' forwardness in referring to the fuzzy head poking out from the wraparound sling on the new 'teacher's chest.

"No."

Silence returned in all its awkward glory, until Arthur decided they obviously weren't going to hear any more on the subject and moved on.

"What are your teaching qualifications?"

Hatake looked at Dumbledore as if waiting for permission. At the headmaster's nod, he replied, "I have been trained in physical combat and self-defense since birth. In my organization's ranking, I am one of the highest level operatives."

The room blinked again; they had expected an older voice to be paired with the well-matured hair.

Snape looked skeptical. "And just what organization might that be?" he sneered. If he was trying for a reaction, none was forthcoming. Moody answered for Hatake.

"That'd be the Hidden Villages, wouldn't it?" the aged auror glowered, brow low as he stared the hired help down. "Of the Elemental Nations. Leaf, based on the headband," he sniffed, then gave an expression that could only be described as a leer. Tonks gave him a concerned look and leaned away. "Or am I wrong, _Ninja?_ "

Again, Hatake made no reaction, allowing someone else to answer for him; Dumbledore, this time, nodding his silver head in acknowledgement. "He is indeed a _shinobi,_ as they call themselves. I take it you have dealt with some of his associates in the past, Alastor?"

Moody grunted. "A couple o' times, yeah."

Dumbledore nodded again. "I am sure we are all very curious. It sounds like an excellent tale to regale us all with later. For now, however, are there any other questions?"

Again being the forward person she was, Tonks asked, "How old are you?"

At last, Hatake himself replied, "I have been an adult for most of my life."

Impressively ambiguous. The mystery of the conflicting voice and hair would have to remain unsolved for now.

After another long, uncomfortable silence, Dumbledore finally determined that enough questioning had taken place and asked Molly to escort their new temporary member to his room. Even after the pair of them left the room, the silence stretched onward in their wake.

 **So. There's that. Updates will come as I finish typing up from my well-loved (read: battered) notebook.**

 **Oh, a quick note about my name change:**

 **I used to be called Krillo the singing Mushroom on this site.**

 **That was one of my characters' names.**

 **He had issue with it.**

 **Never; I repeat, _NEVER_ steal names from mushrooms who can only say the word "Lah!"**

 _ **They will destroy you.**_

 **That's all.  
**

 **Until next time, _au revoir!_**


	2. Chapter 2

**Some things about the timeline that I forgot to explain:**

 **I totally messed with it. I was reading some theories online somewhere, and I came across the idea that Kakashi was actually four years younger than Obito and Rin, since he graduated to genin at age five while they didn't graduate until age nine. Most fans take care of the time displacement by saying that Kakashi apprenticed to Minato or someone else until Obito and Rin were assigned to their team. This includes many fanonized "kakashi-sempai" scenarios, since he was a chunin when Obito and Rin graduated to genin if they're the same age, which are marvellously amusing. But they never call him sempai or indicate that he is of higher rank than them. In fact, it appears that he is already on a team with them when he graduates to chunin at the age of six, given that he shows them his certificate and vest. Arguments about the fact that he certainly doesn't** _ **look**_ **six years old— in fact, looks to be the same age as his teammates— are resolved by the** _ **henge**_ **jutsu.**

 **There were several holes in the theory, but I figured that didn't mean I couldn't twist it to my own purposes :D**

 **So. The timeline insofar as this fanfiction goes is thus:**

 **GRADUATION AND TEAM ASSIGNMENT**

 **Kakashi— 5**

 **Obito— 9**

 **Rin— 9**

 **KAKASHI BECOMES A CHUNIN**

 **Kakashi— 6**

 **Obito— 10**

 **Rin— 10**

 **HATAKE SAKUMO COMMITS SEPPUKU (example of a hole in the theory: how did Obito not know about Kakashi's dad if they were already on the same team when he died?)**

 **Kakashi— 7**

 **Obito— 11**

 **Rin— 11**

 **KAKASHI BECOMES A JOUNIN; THE BRIDGE MISSION; OBITO "DIES"(?) (I haven't quite worked out what I want to do with that yet)**

 **Kakashi— 9**

 **Obito— 13 x_x**

 **Rin— 13**

 **SANBI IS SEALED IN RIN; SHE COMMITS SUICIDE BY KAKASHI'S CHIDORI JUTSU**

 **Kakashi— 10**

 **Obito— 13 X_X 14**

 **Rin— 14 X_X**

 **MINATO BECOMES THE FOURTH HOKAGE**

 **Kakashi— 11**

 **Obito— 12 X_X 15**

 **Rin— 13 X_X 15**

 **KYUUBI DESTROYS KONOHA**

 **Kakashi— 13**

 **Obito— 13 X_X 17**

 **Rin— 14 X_X 17**

 **With regard to the time that will be most pertinent to the story, Kakashi turns thirteen in September, ten months before the story begins. In October, the Kyuubi attacks Konoha. Kakashi is given charge of Naruto since the Hokage doesn't trust anyone else to give him the childhood he deserves (read: not kill or corrupt him). Nov, Dec, Jan, Feb, Mar, Apr, May, Jun, Jul; Kakashi is given the Hogwarts mission Jul 3 and takes two weeks to learn English. Jul 17 he floos through the time/space displacement barrier surrounding the Elemental Continents and arrives in the Burrow on Aug 12, 1995. Naruto is nine months old. When they leave England in June/July ish of 1996, they will reach Konoha in either May or June of the same year.**

 **Basically, the Elemental Continents are a month behind the Outer Continents.**

 **Thanks very much to my many friends— internet and RL— who mentioned that I'd forgotten to put this in :D :P Hopefully things make a bit more sense now.**

Kakashi was _not_ having a good day.

Since he'd gotten up this morning (late, as usual), he'd fed naruto (therefore getting food all over his tiny apartment), sealed the last of everything they needed (which took three hours more than it should have), tried two new forms of transportation (both of which were extraordinarily and impressively uncomfortable), and been very unprofessionally interrogated (which was, at least on some level, an insult to his professionalism, he felt). And now, for the very last straw, he had to wake Naruto up to feed him so as to adjust him to the new time zone. Kakashi got the feeling that if anyone were to see him without his mask, or even realize how _short_ he was— he had yet to hit another growth spurt since he was ten— it would all be over for any kind of respect he might have hoped for. What was Hokage-sama _thinking?_

He laid Naruto on the bed and set about preparing the infant's food, thinking about the interrogation. It was strange, somehow, to be mistaken for Naruto's father. Kakashi supposed it would have been a natural assumption, since he'd been instructed to conceal his age. Still, the thought that Minato-sensei's son might accidentally call him "Tou-san" someday...

Kakashi shook his head. He'd been _very_ careful— from day one! — to refer to himself as "Kashi-nii" for the tiny blonde's sake, and he would continue to do so. It was the way of things, and it would continue to be as long as he had a say in it.

"Ruto-chan," Kakashi said quietly, attempting to raise the baby as gently as possible. "Otoutou..."

Naruto rolled over and sighed sleepily. Oh, the joys of being less than a year old. Unfortunately, Kakashi _needed_ to get his young charge's sleeping schedule adjusted for this new place as quickly as possible, which meant that the little bundle of joy had to wake up for dinner instead of lunch right now.

He picked up Naruto under the arms and sat him up, then released him gently to slump back into a laying position on the bed. Anyone over the age of about three would have woken instantly at the sensation of falling, but Naruto was unfortunately a _very_ deep sleeper, and Kakashi had to repeat the process four or five times to produce the desired result of bleary blinking from the son of Konoha's worst off-duty morning person. This was followed predictably by a distressed, 'I'm awake but I don't want to be' noise from the tiny blonde.

"I know, I know," the young silvertop soothed, "But you need to eat now. Sleeping-time will come later. Not that much later..." Kakashi trailed off, dreading the night to come. Naruto _loved_ to nap, perhaps a little too much; if it was dark outside, the little pill thought it ought to be playtime. And while naps that lasted the entire morning through were excellent for Kakashi's catching up on a missed night's sleep, they wreaked havoc on his punctuality. He was becoming notorious for his lateness to any and all functions throughout the entire village. He'd started resorting to Obito's old excuses simply because "I overslept" was becoming drab.

"See what you've done, 'Bito?" Kakashi spike to the empty air, silencing Naruto's whimpers with a mouthful of food add he did so. "You've gone and rubbed of on me from the grave. Next thing you know I'll be getting dusty in my eyes left and right.."

No reply came from the silence surrounding the baby eating noises. It had been a mistake. Talking to Obito was always a bad idea. Continuing to shovel baby food into Naruto's mouth, Kakashi dismissed the dark thoughts that crept in whenever he tried to have a conversation with a deceased friend.

Now was the time to plan.

 **So! there you have the second chapter. forgive spelling and grammatical errors; I'm typing on my phone because my computer is dying and auto correct is going to be the death of me. sorry it's so short. I hope to have more typed soon.**

 **Please review!**

 **:D**


	3. Chapter 3

**Have you ever gotten sick and thrown up on a cushion on a couch or something? And then ages later, looking after it's been cleaned up and everything's good, and it doesn't even smell anymore, you still can't touch it because in your mind, it's still linked to that vomit?**

 **That's kind of what happened with this chapter. I had an awful case of writer's block in this story, compounded by a writer's voice cold in most of my other stories, and I tried to force my way through. Well, I got the chapter written, but now every time I try to go back and fix it I can't do anything good with it. I'm not even really sure what happened here, because my characters kind of took over and did things I hadn't planned on. But it kept flowing afterward, so... whatever.**

 **I guess my point is that this chapter is cursed, so please forgive me. It gets better again after this, but sometimes you have to slog through the mud to get to the lake.**

 **Disclaimer: Heaven save me from the people who would hunt my head for sport should I ever claim either of these franchises.**

The Hogwarts children— Fred, George, Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny— stood eagerly set the top of the stairs, earnestly listening through the Extendable Ears to the discussion going on in the kitchen.

It was really all Ginny's fault. She had run into her mother on her way upstairs from chasing down Crookshanks to retrieve a stolen sock, and conveniently gleaned from Mrs. Weasley's muttering that there was a new visitor staying in the room across from Buckbeak's. She had, of course, reported this information to her brothers, who had gathered everyone deemed "too young" for Order work to the door in question with their invaluable devices. Unfortunately, however, the visitor was speaking some kind of foreign language, so they gave up on him and moved their attention to the dining room, where the adults were sure to discuss the foreigner.

It was just in time, too, because they heard the door close behind Mrs. Weasley almost as soon as they attached themselves to the Ears.

"Now, Alastor, what were you saying about your experience with ninja in the past?"

There was a gruff "Har _rumph!_ " and then began his explanation.

"Muss'a been... oh, mebbe a decade ago I first heard about the Hidden Continents. They call 'em the _Elemental_ continents, but i'ss same difference, really. We were working an international case over in Japan, tracking a Death Eater who had family over there. It was goin' about as well as anythin' could, mixin' with foreign affairs as we were, an' I'd managed to track 'im down to his family home, but everything went strange as we were getting ready to nab him.

"We had already set up the perimeter when suddenly there was an explosion and a blast of flame from immediately behind the house. I ran to check on the man posted there and see if there was anything to be done— we at the front all thought it must be some kind of magical creature on the loose. When we got back there, the destruction was worse'n anything I ever saw anywhere else. Ground torn up, huge chunks of rock sticking up all over, ashes frozen in ice— the rear end of the house was in total collapse. 'S the kind of thing you might see after a duel that went on for too many hours. This was done in _seconds._ The chap out back was one of the Japanese fellows I had on loan from their ministry and when we got there he was whiter than a sheet and barely blinking. Only word we could get out of him was 'Shinobi.' Of course that got me interested.

"Shinobi are the kind who dance the line between myth and reality. The Japanese Ministry have barely a handful of witness accounts involving ninja, most of those from aurors who were forced into retirement shortly after because they were too jumpy to be around safely. Any who haven't retired will have had an extensive leave for rehabilitation.

"At the time, they knew of only two ninja villages, called 'Eewah' and 'Oozu,' and their information on those was nearly a century old. They had nothing to tell me. I had to find out everything else myself.

"Well, due to the distraction, our guy got away that time. I kept following him for another year or so, and finally caught up to him in a forest in the Yamanashi prefecture. The rest of the group had fallen behind, so I was alone. And then I got _this close_ to meeting them face-to-face.

FLASHBACK

Moody looked around. The trail was right around here; he could feel it in his bones. He moved to step forward—

 _Thkwi-Thunk._

He froze, listening. Something hard, probably metal, and _heavy_ had just hit the tree next to him, and it had gone through flesh to get there. He had heard nothing— no footsteps, no breathing, nothing at all to indicate anyone else's presence for at least the last three miles, but quite suddenly he heard the death rattle of a man impaled by the throat.

Then came the voices.

First a young man's voice— perhaps in his mid-twenties— congratulated someone.

"Good job, genin-san! How old are you?"

Alastor "Mad-eye" Moody would never forget the conversation that followed.

"Twelve." It was a boy's voice. Moody felt a chill run down his spine.

"That your first kill?"

"No... third. But it was my first one-hit on a human!"

"You've had more kills than that! There was that Iwa nin just last week that you got—" A girl protested.

"That doesn't count; those were _shared_ kills. Shared kills belong to the team, right White Fang-sensei?"

The young man laughed.

"Just Sakumo-san is fine. I'm only your temporary jounin-sensei, remember? I do suppose shared kills belong to the team, not the individual, though."

"Do you think we should maybe get going now?"

"Thank you, Akira-san. See, kids; this is why you have three genin and a jounin on every team: when the jounin distracts two of you, the third can get everyone back on task so you can finish up and go out for celebratory sake."

"I thought you had to be sixteen to drink Sake?"

"Nah, you only have to be an adult. Civilians have to be sixteen, but you've been adults since you donned those Hitai-ate two years ago."

FLASHBACK END

Silence reigned in the kitchen.

"They consider _ten-year-olds_ to be adults?" Molly finally gasped, horrified.

"Only sometimes. It depends on how early you earn your hitai-ate."

"But— but— they shouldn't even be in school yet at that age! They—"

Arthur interrupted his wife's furious spluttering. "How do you know so much about them of that's all you heard?"

"There was another ninja following them, alone. Not very good, because I heard him coming when I couldn't even hear the others leave. He was an Iwa nin, and after some... _persuasion_... He told me everything he could about their world."

There was another silence, and then Tonks spoke. "So when he says he's been an adult for most of his life..."

Moody finished, "He could be anywhere between twenty and forty. Or even younger—" several cries of shock— "Or older. According to the man I interrogated, average graduation age is anywhere between twelve and sixteen during peacetime, nine and fourteen during war. Slow students may be as old as eighteen. Quick ones may be ten in peacetime, usually no earlier. Geniuses may be nine."

Remis marveled, "That young?"

In the stairwell, the teens could imagine the grizzled auror nodding gravely. "Konoha had just put our their youngest graduate ever a few months before when I caught the Iwa nin. Rumors said a prodigy of age seven; Iwa, Konoha's greatest rival, suspected the supposed graduate was either a complete myth designed to make the other villages think Konoha was stronger than the others... Or much, _much_ younger than they'd heard. He was following the team I'd over heard because the temporary jounin was supposedly related single to the 'youngest genin in ninja history.'"

"So somewhere out there, there might be a teenager who can't remember _not_ killing for a living..." Sirius' voice was strained, trying to grasp the horror of it.

Tonks spoke up, "You said he could also be older? I could believe it, with his hair..."

"Most shinobi work until they die. While that's usually between ages twenty and thirty-five, depending on rank, the good ones live to sixty, seventy, eighty years old, easy, and still work at that age."

"Indeed," Dumbledore joined in, "My friend, Hiruzen Sarutobi, who sent our mysterious aid, is nearing his sixtieth year, and is regarded as one of the most powerful shinobi in the ninja world."

Molly frowned. "So the only useful information he gave us..."

"... Was that the child isn't his." Lupin looked contemplative as he finished Molly's thought for her. So many questions left unanswered.

* * *

They thought they'd get an opportunity to meet the ninja in the morning, but all there was remaining from the early morning Order meeting was a brief flash of silver exiting the kitchen just as they entered it. Rom was the only one to see it.

"What was that?" he asked, baffled.

"No idea. Is that bacon?" Harry dismissed it, and they all forgot about it that day.

The next morning was much the same, only Hermoine was the one to notice.

"Is there something reflecting in here?" she wondered. The boys dismissed it as her usual thinking out loud and made for the toast and marmalade.

Harry saw the silver on the third day, but thought it was something reflecting off his glasses, and didn't comment.

There was nothing on the fourth day, but on the fifth day after the arrival, all three of them saw it.

"Did you see—" Hermione began, just as Ron said "Was that—" and Harry exclaimed "What—?"

After a moment's confusion, they decided to discuss it later and simultaneously descended upon Mrs. Weasley's pancakes.

After breakfast, they met in Harry and Ron's shared bedroom to speculate on the nature of the mysterious silver glimpse. Hermione proposed that if you opened the door while standing at a particular angle while the stove was lit, an optical illusion presented itself. Harry thought it might just be light bouncing off the lense of his glasses into their eyes. Ron had the most ridiculous theory:

"What if it's the ninja?"

His friends stared at him like he'd grown a third head. Hermione spoke first.

"What in the name of Merlin's neckerchief would give you _that_ idea?" she asked, baffled.

"No, no, it makes sense, see? You guys said ninja are supposed to be some kind of group of superhumans, right? They train themselves their entire lives to be able to do impossible things, like walk on walls and water and make rocks into sand without wands. So, why shouldn't one be so fast that we can barely see a flicker when he moves?"

Harry and Hermione blinked in unison, still staring at the ginger oddly. Finally, Harry said, "I don't think so. But who knows? Could be."

Hermione started postulating aloud again. "That should be physically impossible, but if they..."

The boys just rolled their eyes at each other again and started a game of gobstones, leaving Hermione to argue with herself.

It probably wasn't even that important, anyway.

 **So, there you have it. Five months late, of course, but at least it's here!**

 **(really, I'm so, so, so sorry. Please don't hate me.)**

 **I have no idea why the kids know about there being a ninja in grimmauld place. They just do. I'll be surprised as the rest of you to see how this turns out.**

 **Again, this is completely unbeta'd, so I appologise for any weirdness, and most definitely for the lateness. Hopefully updates will be more regular than "every six months to a year" soon (LOL— I'm going into senior year; who am I kidding? Seriously though, I'm going to be trying even if it kills me.)**

 **In other news, I finally got an accout on Archive of our Own, so everything here will soon be appearing there, and hopefully this and Accidental will be up soon as well. It's easier to post mobile there, so depending on how things go, updates may appear on Archive first. My account is Rick_KTish, if anyone's interested.**

 **Please review and tell me what you think!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Whew! Twelve pages of handwritten crap, now typed into five and a half pages of typed crap!**

 **Please enjoy! Further notes, especially regarding updates, are at the bottom.**

 **Disclaimer: one of these days I'm going to get arrested for forgetting to tell everyone just how much I DON'T own Naruto or Harry Potter.**

Molly Weasley wasn't sure she liked the ninja. She was _very_ sure she didn't like the idea of his being near her children— blood or otherwise— the entire year.

Kakashi was aware of this. He actually felt a little bit gratified that even carrying a tiny, adorable baby, he had enough of a threatening presence that she felt the need to keep a suspicious eye on him at all times when he wasn't in his and Naruto's room. It was very complimentary, although he knew it was only natural to want to keep an eye on suspicious figures who stood silently in the corner while you discussed top-secret, questionably-legal plans.

He was also ridiculously glad that no one seemed to have noticed that he spent most of those meetings just conscious enough to 'record' what was being said into his eidetic memory so he could review it later.

"Later" being the middle of the night, when his favorite little _pill_ was _supposed_ to be sleeping.

Genius among geniuses though he was, Kakashi simply could not understand why Naruto was still up _all night long._ They'd switched time zones, and yet they were still somehow up all night and sleeping come morning. It was a good thing no one ever knocked on his door. The wizards had no clue, and he intended to keep it that way. They had made it through one week; how much harder could a few dozen more be?

Setting aside the letter from his "Most Glorious And Youthful Rival" he'd received earlier that day, Kakashi paused in his uncharacteristically optimistic musings (even he couldn't tell if he was being sarcastic or if he was hysterical with exhaustion) to check the blonde lying on his chest. Eyes almost closed... almost... and then he cursed optimism and all its aged ancestors and descendants for ages to come as a tiny baby belly gave a tiny rumble of want for filling. The tiny mouth twisted in misery, the tiny cerulean orbs filled with tears, and Kakashi had to fight the sudden urge to cry himself. Instead, he cursed optimism's cousins (just for good measure) and did his best to calm the child before the wailing could start.

"Shh, shh, shh; it's okay, 'Ruto-chan. Are you hungry? Shall we get you some food?" he murmured, hushing and trying to speak soothingly. His right hand supported Naruto as he sat up, his left was already unsealing the scroll containing food for his charge. He pulled out some formula mix— Naruto had only two teeth and was by no means ready for a complete mashed-foods diet— and his heart sank. The small camping burner he'd been using to avoid unnecessary trips out of the room had broken the other day, and between sleeping, caring for Naruto, Order meetings, and guard duty, he hadn't gotten around to fixing it yet. What now?

After an intense inner debate which was cut short by Naruto's whimpers, he decided that the Order and Black-san probably wouldn't mind his using the stove. _Especially in the middle of the night, when they won't have a clue,_ he thought, and started making his way downstairs. Naruto was satisfied with his fingers for a meal for the time being. Kakashi hoped it would last long enough for him to get the formula mixed up.

The only sound in the house was that of Naruto sucking on Kakashi's thumb as the ninja silently came downstairs and started a pot boiling. He sat down on a stool next to the stove and leaned against the wall, letting both eyes drift shut for just a moment... they were so heavy...

Kakashi's right eye snapped open as he sensed movement in the room. Was it a threat? Had he missed someone coming down? Let his guard down at the exact wrong time? Was it—

He forcibly calmed his thoughts as he registered Molly Weasley standing before him. She was looking at him a bit strangely, and Kakashi realized that it was the first time she (or anyone in the household for that matter) had seen him without his gloves, armor, and Hitai-ate. A moment of eye contact communicated her thoughts quite clearly to him:

 _Aren't you going to become stoic and threatening now that I'm here? Aren't you going to loom over me silently to intimidate me into leaving and never speaking a word about this meeting?_

He looked down at himself, taking in his standard-issue sweats, bare arms, and self-customized undershirt, as well as the adorable nine-month-old slurping determinedly at his gloveless fingers. Then he met her eyes again, slightly embarrassed.

 _What, dressed like this? You wouldn't laugh yourself to death?_

Deeming there to be no threat, although internally agonizing that he hadn't woken up when she started coming down the stairs, he moved his attention to the pot on the stove. It was just barely starting to simmer. He hadn't been asleep very long at all. Having absorbed this fact, he moved on to checking on Naruto, who was still gnawing at his fingers with gusto. Kakashi suspected tooth number three's work.

"Does he not sleep well?"

Mrs. Weasley's voice broke him out of his thoughts. He looked at her and blinked. Was she trying to break the awkward tension of their meeting, or attempting to get more information out of him?

"...Not at night," he finally answered.

"Is he afraid of the dark, do you think?" she asked.

"No," Kakashi started, "He—"

A brief flash entered his mind of the Sandaime's instructions regarding the mission.

" _Try not to reveal too much, but if there is anyone with whom you must be as near to honesty— or even fully honest— it will be Molly Weasley. Given the profiles Dumbledore-san has provided, she is both the most likely to be able to detect lies and most likely to be completely distrustful toward you if you don't earn her confidence; a problem, since she's a distinct lynchpin in their order. If she doesn't trust you, very nearly no one will."_

Honesty it was, then.

"I have two theories. First, he was born at night, in the middle of something like a war. Explosions, blood, people screaming— doesn't exactly seem like a good time to sleep, right? And then, I tried to go back on active duty a few months ago. He cried every time I tried to leave while he was awake, so I put him to bed and left him with a sitter. Normally he _likes_ Iruka, but he wouldn't stay calm for him for more than fifteen minutes at a time the entire two days I was gone. I thought he'd be fine— Iruka was actually living with us for a little while so his family home could be repaired. But he hasn't slept at night since. I think he's worried I'll disappear again."

Mrs. Weasley had sat down at the table and was watching him as he spoke. He realized that he'd never spoken so many words running here. He also noticed he'd accidentally left his detached professionalism in his vest; his voice held barely disguised tones of exhaustion and despair. She could probably tell.

He mentally berated himself as he stood and started preparing the formula. Naruto protested as he shifted him from his lap to his hip to do so.

"Is there anything I can do to help?"

Kakashi was so shocked, he nearly dropped the bottle full of scalding water. He righted it in his hand and moved Naruto to his chest, where he held him with chakra so he could use both hands.

"I don't know," he replied after a moment's pause, coming to the table to attach the nib to the lid. He noticed her eyes widen when she saw how he was holding Naruto. "It's a ninja technique."

She nodded, still shocked. "Do you have so many... _active_ parents?"

It took him a second to figure out what she meant, but he huffed a slight laugh as the dots connected. "That we develop techniques specific for parenting? Well, yes, but this isn't actually one of them. This one is usually used for walking on water, or occasionally walls and ceilings. I'm just rather creative."

Apparently put slightly more at ease by his wry humor, she relaxed slightly and offered to whip them up some hot chocolate. Kakashi just shrugged noncommittally as he guided the nib to Naruto's mouth. He felt rather suddenly like a shy child who _knows_ there's a mother here who can read his deepest secrets in an instant.

Stupid sleep deprivation.

* * *

For the first time, Molly didn't bother watching the ninja out of the corner of her eye. Her mother's protective instinct was, for once, hovering at his side instead of standing between him and the children. Perhaps it was because he seemed to pose no threat to them the way he was now; tired, unarmored, and feeding a child almost smaller than she could remember any of her own ever having been. He was truly more vulnerable now than she'd ever seen him.

As she busied herself refilling the pot and setting it again to boil, she wondered, not for the first time in her life, if there was in fact some higher being who dictated meetings and times and lives. She'd only come down because she couldn't sleep and wanted something hot to help her relax enough to drop off. She supposed that it was a testament to the ninja's skill that she hadn't heard him going directly past her and Arthur's room to the kitchen, even in this rickety old house. When she'd seen him sitting on the stool next to the stove, she'd almost turned around then and there, abandoning her quest for sleep-inducing comfort. But then she'd seen the baby.

She realized that she hadn't once in the week since Kakashi had joined them seen the tiny blond awake. He had the most piercing eyes she had ever seen, a gorgeous cerulean that was luminous with some inner power not to be tapped for years to come. Molly was sure she would have noticed them before if she'd seen them, but she hadn't. Every time the ninja came to their Order meetings, the baby had been a constant, quiet presence with him, always asleep in his sling.

She also realized that the ninja wasn't.

Feeling a dawning empathy for the poor man— mixed with a strange combination of pity, respect, exasperation, and amusement— Molly remembered the advice that had kept her sane whilst raising seven rambunctious children in a house made of scraps and held together by magic and miracles alone: _sleep when your baby sleeps._ She still recalled the first rule she'd implemented when Bill had reached toddlerhood. "If you're cranky, you need a nap. If Mommy's cranky, you still need a nap."

Seeing the exhausted silvertop now, Molly looked for the first time at Kakashi Hatake as not a weapon, not a mercenary, not a _threat,_ but as a fellow sufferer of mankind's favorite plague: children. She looked at his face— saw his left eye for the first time and was able to pass her attention from the lang vertical scar he usually hid under his forehead protector to the deep lines of exhaustion under his eyes. Saw his pale complexion not as some odd cultural thing none of them knew about but as a sign of sickness from lack of sleep that stood out against a natural tan she hadn't noticed before. Saw _him,_ not as opposition, but as someone who needed her help.

Even with her new perspective, she'd still nearly jumped out of her skin when his right eye opened suddenly without any kind of gasp or start. His breathing didn't even speed up suddenly; it was instead a gradual change from the deep, even breaths of one wandering the endless world of dreams to the slightly shallower, shorter breaths of one partaking of reality. She'd instinctively stared that single gray eye down, still wary on some level of what she'd seen from him in the past. His slightly abashed glance downward, assessing himself as she'd already done, had set her even more at ease than she'd been when he was asleep. The look he'd given her— almost apologetic, slightly sarcastic, as though he thought he ought to look scarier in the early hours of the morning and believed she was disappointed by his lack of armor and weapons— had done still more to calm her nerves.

She really hadn't meant to speak to him at all, but the words had burst from her mouth almost before she'd thought them. Maybe it was partly a test that she continued the conversation. She wanted to know if she could trust him.

She wasn't sure what to think of his fumble with the bottle. Was he really so unused to the offer of aid that his shock could break his normally unflappable composure?

Molly thought on these things as she returned to the table. She watched the silvertop ninja patiently feed the tiny baby in his arms. Moody had said he could easily be anywhere between twenty and sixty, but as she looked at him, she thought he couldn't be older than thirty at all. She was more inclined to guess even lower, but she hardly dared to. After all, if she even began to suspect, then it might be true.

As the silver head nodded once more, she gave in to her motherly urge.

"Could I feed him for you?"

The ninja blinked as his unflappable composure was once again flapped. It seemed to take him a moment to process whatshe said. She fought a smile of empathetic amusement; she remembered being that tired.

"What? Oh no, that's fine. I can't ask you to do that. You might burn yourself."

Part of her mind noted that his sentences were choppy and slightly disjointed. It could have only been sleep deprivation, but now a new thought occurred to her: was their fearsome, stoic ninja actually a little bit people shy? "What do you mean?"

He looked a little embarrassed. "He refuses to drink formula any cooler than absolutely scalding hot." the young ninja huffed another laugh. "He's going to be just like his parents, I'm sure; gulping down his food before anyone else could feasibly touch it."

Molly smiled warmly at him. Most vulnerable indeed. She could only hope that he'd trust her this much in the morning. "You must have known them well. What were their names?"

Somehow, over the next hour and a half and two mugs of hot chocolate, Molly learned all about Minato Namikaze and Kushina Uzumaki (or, as she learned it was said in Konoha, Namikaze Minato and Uzumaki Kushina), the former of whom took it upon himself to care about his youngest team member and stop him from working himself into the ground following his father's death. In turn, Kakashi, as she'd started calling him (he hadn't protested yet) learned all about raising six boys and a girl who wanted to be just like her brothers, about accidental magic and spark plugs, and about trying to keep an eye on her son's friend because she was concerned he was being mistreated at home. There was certainly somethign odd about that night; something that made a war-hardened mercenary and a suspicious mother break down their walls and share something deep and touching that, under normal circumstances, would never have been seen. Perhaps it was the house. Perhaps it was sleep deprivation. Perhaps it was a combination of the invisible seal the Sandaime had attached to the inside of Maito Gai's letter to his Most Glorious Rival to lower inhibitions and suspicion with the potion Dumbledore had offered Mrs. Weasley earlier that night to 'help calm her nerves' about having a stranger in the house. Whatever the case, both walked away from the conversation— and many more, for after this one neither would let it be the last— forever changed in their world view. Kakashi learned that life without the constant fear of death was more than a fairy tale. Molly got a small (admittedly heavily censored— Kakashi wasn't _that_ tired) glimpse of the adventures and wisdom a life on the battlefield could bring.

Come three in the morning, the baby's eyes were at last drooping, and Molly placed their once again empty mugs in the sink and told her new friend that they had probably best be getting to bed. She told him she would keep guard for him for the next twenty-seven hours, and that she'd be checking on him to make sure he was sleeping at least once in that time. She also said that if there was any kind of urgent message, she would ensure he got it in a timely manner, and that other than urgent information, there would be no Order meetings in that time. He gave his now-familiar huffing laugh, his unscarred eye shining with gratitude he didn't dare express in words. They walked up the stairs together, his steps silent, hers quieted by years of practice checking on children who should be sleeping, chatting quietly. As she turned to go into the room she shared with Arthur, she called to him quietly. There was something she hadn't yet asked.

"What's his name?"

Kakashi also looked surprised as he also realized he'd never mentioned the name the tiny blond's parents had given him. Molly watched him smile through his mask as he looked down at his teacher's son, eye gone soft.

"Naruto," he called back to her softly. "His name is Naruto. It has two meanings; noodles with fish—" Molly rolled her eyes, having become quite familiar with the parents who would have confidently named their child after their shared favorite food in the last few hours. "— or Maelstrom, the swirling storm."

Molly smiled as she climbed back into bed with her husband, cuddling up close to steal his warmth after her much-longer-than-intended excursion.

Maelstrom. With Kakashi's help, love, and support, she had no doubt that child could take the world by a storm.

 **So my family is flying out to New York to... day, yes, it's after midnight; we're flying out today— and we'll be spending two weeks driving back home hitting family sites of note, like the graves of my great-great-great grandparents, and the site where my fifth great grandfather was shot in the neck and paralyzed for the rest of his life. It's gonna be great.**

 **(no actually, I really am looking forward to it; I'm a history geek.)**

 **Anyways, I was originally planning to try to post this next week and start a consistent thing going where I post every week, but posting is really hard from a mobile device. So instead, I will be posting this now and hopefully using my undiscovered magical talents to get another chapter out within the next two weeks.**

 **Thank you for all the new favorites and follows, and all my loyal people who have been waiting for so long. I promise I'm trying to get this going with a little more momentum.**

 **Please leave reviews; they literally make my day, and sometimes my week. I'm going to spend the forseeable future crammed in with two toddlers and a fourteen-year-old boy; I could probably use the positivity.**

' **Till next time!**


	5. Chapter 5

**This one's kind of short, but I didn't want to make you guys wait any longer. I just got back into wi-fi (more on that at the bottom), so I figured I'd go ahead and put out what I've got. Enjoy!**

 **Disclaimer: I once dreamed that I owned both Harry Potter and Naruto. In my dream, everyone hated me for ruining all their favorite characters by either psychologically torturing them or turning them into deadpan snarkers. Also, Draco Malfoy and Jiraiya were wearing tutus. What's with that?**

Harry, Ron, and Hermione walked down the stairs together, all three of them carefully alert. It had been two full days since any of them had seen the silver flash, but they wanted to be cautious; it could appear at any time. They had missed listening in on the Order meeting this morning; Mrs. Weasley had impervious'd the door once again, and it had proven impossible to get around this morning. Still, they were on high alert. There was no way they were going to miss seeing a real ninja.  
All three of them were distracted simultaneously, however, as they heard Dumbledore talking on the other side of the kitchen door. They paused and watched as it opened.

"Ah, here are some of our students now." The headmaster beamed at the mysterious man next to him. The man nodded in greeting. "These are Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, and Hermione Granger. Children, this is Hogwarts' newest teacher, Kakashi Hatake. He's staying with the order as a bit of extra protection while he's on loan here from his own school, and while he will not be actively participating in our preparations, he is also here to act as liaison between our school and his to help organize aid for the future."

The three of them all murmured, "Pleasure," and tried to take in the odd appearance of their new teacher.

He was several centimeters shorter than Harry, and was certainly the oddest person any of them had ever seen. His hair seemed to be only slightly darker than Dumbledore's, and his face had a unique agelessness that could only be possible by hiding most of it from sight. Harry supposed that his single visible eye at least seemed to be remarkably unwrinkled. He was simply strange, and the strangest part was the tuft of blonde hair peeking out of a wraparound sling on his chest.

"It's very nice to meet you," the man said, and Harry couldn't help noticing that his slightly accented voice seemed young as well. "I'm looking forward to the next year."

Hermione eagerly asked, "Where is your accent from? It's very faint, and I can't quite put my finger on it."

Professor Hatake's single eye seemed to smile at them somehow. "I'm from Japan. I'm afraid I haven't been learning English for very long, so please feel free to correct me if I say something incorrectly."

"When did you first start learning?"

The professor rubbed at the back of his head. "Only about a month or so ago. I haven't really had an opportunity to practice until my arrival here, so—"

Ron cut him off, wide-eyed. "You've only been learning for a _month?_ "

The professor nodded. "I'm a very fast learner.

Harry spoke up, "What class will you be teaching? Are you taking over Defense Against the Dark Arts?"

Dumbledore answered for him, "He'll be teaching a new class for us this year; 'Self-Defense.' It's going to be a class on how to defend yourself if your wand is unavailable to you."

Harry blinked. "What, so like martial arts and stuff?"  
Professor Hatake nodded. "Some of that, but also how to use knives and other weapons to defend yourself... And more, if necessary." All three of them noticed the way the professor's eyes meet the headmaster's.  
"That, however, is for you to discover more of later." Dumbledore broke the budding tension jovially, eyes twinkling slightly less cheerily than usual. "For now, I believe Mrs. Weasley has prepared a most excellent breakfast for you all and is eagerly awaiting your aid in preparing the table for use. I must unfortunately take my leave of you all; there is sadly much still left to prepare for the coming year, and such is the task of the headmaster to the care of it. Good luck, Professor Hatake."  
And with that the old man was gone. The four of them stood in the hall, blinking together, united by surprise for a moment before Mrs. Weasley's summons called them away.

Breakfast would have been normal, except for the fact that no one could stop staring at the young— all of them had decided that he was _much_ younger than his hair seemed to imply— new professor. After he was introduced to the rest of the group, the dining room was awfully, awkwardly silent. The kids were bursting with questions they didn't dare ask. They knew they weren't supposed to know that the mysterious new teacher was a ninja, so how were they going to get any information about him without confessing their knowledge?

Just when no one thought the tension in the room could get any thicker, a dissipator appeared that not one of them was expecting: the tiny blonde tuft on professor Hatake's chest.

First it shifted.

Then it bulged.

And then, finally, a small noise arose from it: a tiny, high pitched grumple of the waking variety.

Apparently oblivious to the sudden change in atmosphere, Professor Hatake looked down at his bundle as though it had surprised him greatly. Leaning down slightly, he said something softly in Japanese, and then undid the sling part of the way so that the cloth revealed—

 _The most adorable face in existence_ , complemented by the biggest, bluest eyes ever seen and the widest two-toothed smile ever given by such a small mouth.

Silence reigned for a mere moment before the entire house rang with the time-tested chorus revered and added to by every woman who has ever lived. The adage shook the property of the Ancient and Most Noble House of Black to its very foundations, and had the late matriarch of the honored family shrieking for once not in disgust, but in envy that she could not also partake in the cause of the favored psalm's evocation.

" _AWWWWWWW!"_

Within moments, the new professor was being pressed upon on all sides by every girl in the room, all of them seeking a better view of he tiny lump of joy the nunha carried with him strapped to his chest.

And that was how Special Jounin Hatake Kakashi of Konohagakure no Sato, present in every village's bingo book before the age of eleven with the notation "Do Not Engage" and one of the most feared ninja in the Elemental Continents gained the unwavering affections and unquestioning devotion of every single female who resided in or frequented Number 12, Grimmauld Place that summer.

* * *

 _Mission Report_

 _20 Aug 1995, Wizard reckoning_

 _/25 Jul XXXX, Shinobi reckoning_

 _Mission: "Self-Defense Teacher"_

 _Operative successfully integrated with clientele; some difficulty; require mission label upgrade from two-face to three-face._

 _Successful infiltration of student group in role "Professor Hatake." Role "Mysterious Ninja" suspected compromised but unconfirmed; "Professor" role to be maintained until known compromised. Third role, "Tired Caretaker," implemented out of necessity._

 _Monitoring of location "Noble and Most Ancient House of Black" has revealed no security gaps or faults. No breaches have occurred._

 _No further reports or requests pertaining to mission at present._

 _Some confusion pertaining to marking of date due to time-space displacement barrier surrounding Elemental Nations. Request standardization of date notation in mission reports from the Outer Continents._

 _Operative notes:_

 _Sarutobi, you sick dog. What in Kami-sama's name did you hope to accomplish by sending me on a mission with a mother hen and her nurture-radar among the clientele? If you're so worried about my mental health, stop sending me on crazy missions with things that shouldn't exist. I haven't forgotten the fauns. Or the ghosts. Or the talking, non-summons animals in strange colors who only care about feelings. As soon as I figure out how you did it, I'm bringing Molly-san and her family to Konoha and letting_ you _deal with her fretting over how much you eat and sleep for a little while._

 _Hatake Kakashi KNS/HNK/009720/P/AN/TJ_

* * *

Hiruzen's brow creased as he read the decrypted copy of Kakashi's mission notes on his first report. He knew the boy well enough to read the mixed gratitude and assurance in between the lines of the threat.

Unfortunately he also knew him well enough to know he _meant_ the threat.

Hiruzen sighed, relighting his pipe. At least he knew the seal had worked. Perhaps he should have had more scruples about using experimental interrogation techniques on his operatives— especially ones as young as Kakashi was— but he seemed to have missed that phase of his Hokage training. That could probably be blamed on his teacher, anyhow. Now he only had to figure out how to save himself from the impending wrath of his youngest Jounin operative; after all, one year was not anywhere near enough time to figure out how to escape the vengeance of the second-best strategist in Konohagakure.

 **KNS/HNK/009720/P/AN/TJ- Konohagakure no Sato / Hi no Kuni / ninja registration number / Post/ANBU (meaning he's retired from ANBU) / Tokubetsu (special) Jounin.**

 **Basically, it's his registration stuff so they know how to file the report once they're done with it.**

 **I have spent the last two weeks driving through awesome historical sites and watching Care Bears on repeat in between, with the occasional Muppets Take Manhattan interrupting "Care-a-lot... is a place we all can gooooo..." The downside? T-Mobile's "nationwide" coverage** _ **really**_ **doesn't work anywhere between New York and Wyoming. So, I couldn't even open Google Drive for most of the time, except for the rare occasions when offline editing decided to work, very, very briefly.** **Still, I'm home now, so I should be able to post more soon.**

 **Happy reading, and** _ **please**_ **review. I know! Tell me what your favorite sentence has been thus far. Something weird, something that made you laugh— whatever. It doesn't even have to be from this story, it can be from any of my stories. I write fanfiction to improve my overall writing; tell me what you'd like to read in an actual, published book.**

 **Many thanks, and more soon!**

 **~Rick**


	6. Chapter 6

**Um.**

 **Hi.**

 **I know it's been months, I'm sorry.**

 **... at least it was less than six this time?**

 ***sighs tiredly.***

 **I** _ **do**_ **actually have several chapters typed, though, so I'll have another one out in the next week, depending on how long it takes me to fix the grammar stuff. I've been experimenting with voice-to-text in google docs on my phone to see if it can get things faster than I can type, but it can't do anything beyond the most basic grammar marks, so I'm not sure it's worth the hassle. As usual, if anyone notices anything, please tell me.**

 **Disclaimer: You know the drill. I don't even own my own car; why would I own either of these?**

With the arrival of book lists and prefect badges, the oddness of Professor Hatake was at least nearly forgotten. He was obviously doing his best to comply with social norms he was completely new to, and the general consensus became to ignore any faux pas made by the absent-minded teacher. Only Molly continued to call him out, using gentle hints and corrections to each flub. The other members of the household were left flabbergasted by her calm acceptance of the professors oddities.

There were several instances in which Molly reminded the professor of various everyday items. Most mornings, and many afternoons, a gentle correction could be heard from wherever the cleaning Rampage was blowing through that day.

"Kakashi, dear; we usually use the door to enter a room, not the windows."

"Please don't leave your needles on the table, dear; the children get so curious."

"We don't usually sharpen blades at the table oh, Kakashi dear. Please wait until after dinner."

"Oh, do let me hold Naruto for you while you get that doxy nest out of the chandelier - you make me so nervous sometimes, walking like that - there's a dear."

"Really, Kakashi, I know that Pakkun needs to talk to you, but must you let him sit on the table so soon after I've told off one of the children for it? Move to the couch if you please, dears."

The how and why of Mrs. Weasley's knowledge of the customs wherever Professor Hatake had come from were mysterious, as was her apparent nonchalance toward deadly Weaponry, walking on walls and ceilings, and talking dogs. She was also the only one who called him by his given name, and the only one allowed to hold the tiny blonde baby that accompanied the professor everywhere he went, Naruto.

Just as strange where Professor Hatake's responses. Often he would give a confused look, or else nod seriously, clearly not understanding their reasoning. Occasionally he would comment something like,

"But it's so easy to put traps on doors. Why would you use them?"

Most of the time, though, he did his best to comply. The only repeated it problem was using windows instead of doors, but it seemed- oddly enough - to come from habit and forgetfulness more than anything else.

Overall, though, the professor's odd behavior was mostly ignored (although Ron seemed to idolize him slightly, and was often seen wandering after him into whatever room he had just entered, whenever he wasn't talking with Harry and Hermione).

There was some interesting conversation heard over the extendable ears the night before the departure to Hogwarts, which brought up several questions regarding the ninja culture.

"What does it mean to be a prefect?" Hatake asked in the almost monotonous voice he used during order meetings. Clearly, the absent-minded, mildly ridiculous Professor was a mask he placed over his personality to put the students at ease. It made him more suspicious in their eyes.

Moody answered his question. "A prefect is kind of like a team _Taichou_ , only over a larger group then your ninja teams. There are also head boy and girl, who are like the people the _Taichou_ report to. Everyday Wizards can be anywhere between genin and jounin level, which you can usually tell by their job: Hands-on workers usually are higher level than administrative workers, with exceptions.

"Teachers range between chunin and jounin level, heads of House are usually nearly on par with special jounins, and Dumbledore may be the only person in the Wizarding World who even comes close to kage level. In terms of social equivalence, the approximate are equivalent."

The teens had puzzled over this for a few hours, trying to figure out the ranking system, before giving up. They had more important things to worry about— like the fast-approaching first day of school.

The last night before it was time to return to Hogwarts brought the most peculiar of all behaviors however. Mrs. Weasley had encountered a bogart in the upstairs drawing room when Professor Hatake entered. He took one look at the situation and asked if he might attempt to intervene. Molly was only able to nod and step back as Hatake stepped forward to further assess the bogart. Immediately, the creature swirled to become a gruesome, limping figure whose right side was crushed and unrecognizable. The left side was clearly human, about 13 years of age, but the left I was only an empty socket, losing blood steadily in a stream that fell like tears down the pale cheek. Harry, who had entered shortly before Professor Hatake, stood transfixed with horror. The professor, however, merely cocked his head curiously.

Sensing his lack of Terror, the boggart swirled again to become a girl about a year older than its last incarnation, standing Loosely with her arms at her sides, limp. Twin streams of blood leaked from the corners of her mouth, her dead, empty eyes staring accusingly at Hatake. There was a gaping hole in the center of her chest, bathing her in blood from a still beating heart, surrounded by a charred ring of fused clothing and flesh. Hatake stroked his chin contemplatively.

Perhaps supposing that the third time will be the charm, the bogart swirled once more, this time becoming a somewhat older couple, a blond man and vibrantly red-haired woman, perhaps in their early to mid-twenties. The man stood behind the kneeling woman, the duo linked by a strange energy that pierced both of their chests. The man had several grievous injuries; the woman was exhausted and ill. Both of them also had blood leaking down their chins, dripping to the ground beneath them. Hatake raised an eyebrow.

Frustrated, another swirl produced a man in his late twenties to early 30s, kneeling on the ground with a short Japanese sword in his hands. As they watched, the man looked directly at Hatake before plunging the knife into his own gut and drawing it too easily across. They watched as the silver gray hair, so similar to hatake's own, was stained with blood. Hatake sighed and shook his head as though he was disappointed in the bogart's efforts.

Clearly growing desperate the Bogart swirled extensively grasping at straws for a form to scare this unflappable new foe. Finally it settled on a young man, perhaps in his late teens or early twenties. Unlike the previous images there was no blood or gore here, but he was rather... odd. He wore a green spandex leotard, with orange leg warmers on top. His shiny black hair was cut like a bowl that rested on top of his round head, and his huge, thick eyebrows, set over extraordinarily round eyes, brought to mind the disturbingly lush fuzz of certain magical South African caterpillars. He grinned, nearly blinding everyone in the room, and began babbling in Japanese, occasionally exclaiming a heavily accented " _Youth!"_ and bringing to mind somehow golden sunsets and brilliant, joyful sparkles.

Hatake deadpanned.

Harry and Lupin stared, confused by the apparent cessation of the gore. What would happen next? Who would make the next move?

It turned out to be Hatake. They watched intently as the professor began to move slowly. They expected him to pull out a wand, or some kind of weapon - he'd been seen fiddling with several well honed blades over the last few days - but instead he lifted the baby out of the sling on his chest. They stared in confusion as he gently turns the child around so he faced outward... And then held him out to the Bogart.

Adorable cerulean eyes blinked at the strange man. The boggart flashed a look of relief from The Strangers face before transforming once more, this time into...

Hatake himself?!

Why would the baby fear his caretaker? What was he doing to—

All questions were answered as the duplicate Hatake looked apologetically at the child and then vanished.

Silence reigned. Harry and Lupin were too stunned to say anything. Molly had somehow not only calm down, but was smiling slightly, apparently trying not to laugh.

The baby's face had begun to screw up into a wail, but Hatake quickly turned him around. Upon seeing his caregiver oh, the blonde instantly calm down, and began sucking on his fingers contentedly.

Finally, Molly spoke.

"Kakashi, dear, we usually don't hold out babies to see their worst fear, she said kindly."

Turning back to them, he looked confused. "Then how are they supposed to be able to face it later?"

There was silence once more as the Wizards contemplated the ninjas words, before Hatake shrugged and walked out the door. Mrs. Weasley followed, shaking her head.

It was a moment before Harry and Lupin found the mental capacity to do the same. As they exited, Lupin commented to Harry, "A crude but effective method. I'd never thought what would happen if a person's worst fear was having someone disappear from their life."

 **So I barely managed to pass the class I needed to get graduation credit from on the last day of the semester. After a 3-week long break. On a day I wasn't even supposed to be at school. And somehow in the other class I desperately need a credit from the teacher hasn't gotten the draft I sent her that I needed in order to pass? Even though she's had it for several months? And of course why would she be at school on the day I went to ask her about it when she could stay HOME to grade our written finals...**

 **So... yeah.**

 **That's where I've been.**

 **I got accepted at the college I wanted, though, so that's awesome. Now I just need to figure out how to make it through high school so I can actually go, right?**

 **Sigh...**

 **Reviews are always appreciated as always. Thanks so much to those who have already reviewed; you guys really make my day better every time I look back through them.**

 **Again, next chapter is already typed and waiting to go up as soon as I finish putting in quotation marks and other vital grammar missed by the experimental voice-to-text typing up I did. Probably will be in a day or two. So... yeah.**


	7. Chapter 7

**Here's that next chapter I promised. It's pretty short because there are a couple longer things coming up, but ... it's here?**

 **Sorry.**

 **Oh yeah, a note on last chapter's boggart which I forgot to put in:**

 **I do not think any of the things shown are actually Kakashi's worst fear, which I hope was well-displayed by his reaction. I actually know** _ **exactly**_ **what I think his worst fear is, and I hope to get an opportunity to bring it up later. For now, he actually managed to genjutsu the boggart enough to confuse it whilst throwing that kunai, but it's still designed to search through one's mind to find things that cause fear, and Kakashi has indeed had nightmares about all of those things, so that's what the boggart was able to get at. Also it was more dramatic to stick to the thing that everyone writes for once; sometimes even I get tired of trying to break the mold.**

 **Enjoy, I hope?**

The day of departure was a scramble, but mostly uneventful. The only incident worth question occurred shortly before they boarded the train, when Sirius wanted to say goodbye to Harry. Apparently noticing his intent, Professor Hatake made a quick command motion like they'd seen him do with some of the dogs that appeared from nowhere in his presence and said, "Say goodbye to Harry, Padfoot, he's going away with the rest of us, though you might see him over one of the breaks."

Sirius gave the short man a look that was half grateful, half something else indefinable, and stood on his hind legs to put his front paws on Harry's shoulders. At Mrs. Weasley's cough he panted obligingly, but the look in his eye was solemn and encouraging.

Then Mrs. Weasley was ushering them off, giving last-minute advice to them all: "Don't over stress yourself, Hermione, dear— don't leave your homework to the last minute, boys— Kakashi dear, don't stay up too late grading papers; Naruto is not the only one who needs rest!—" and so on, and the six of them watched as the station pulled slowly away from them.

Harry's mood went morose as Ron and Hermione set out for the Prefect's carriage, feeling Professor Hatake's presence more oppressively than ever at his back, and was reminded that he would be staying with Harry and Ginny because there was no carriage for teachers. It suddenly occurred to Harry that this was going to be a very long train ride.

Neville seemed too shy to ask about the new quarter-face accompanying Harry and Ginny, but his expression as they entered the compartment which contained the mysterious "Loony" Lovegood made Harry think _long_ might have been an understatement.

"You're Harry Potter."

He barely managed to spare the odd girl a deadpan. His friends weren't with him, he had a crazy professor and his _baby_ to deal with for the next eight or so _hours,_ and he was _not_ in the mood for any extra insanity at the moment. "I know I am."

Neville and Professor Hatake both laughed at his response, drawing Luna's attention to them.

"And I don't know who either of you are."

Neville visibly shrunk at the sudden attention, stuttering out his reply in surprise. "I— oh, I-I'm nobody— Neville Longbottom, nobody— n-nobody important."

Luna frowned slightly. "Everybody's important," she said as though she were stating the obvious but little-recognised meaning of the universe. "And you?" She turned to Hatake.

"I'm a new teacher this year. My name is Kakashi Hatake," he looked down at the happily curious baby who was looking around the compartment, "and this is my otouto, Naruto."

Luna smiled serenely at the pair. "Pleasure. The wrackspurts seem to leave you alone, you know. I think they might be afraid of you."

Professor Hatake blinked momentarily, apparently startled, before closing his eye in what the order was slowly learning to recognise as a smile. "Is that so? I wonder why,' he said brightly before settling back and allowing others to take control of the conversation.

By the time Cho appeared to see the stinksap-filled compartment, the professor was completely forgotten, sitting silently and unobtrusively at the edge of everyone's perception, reading a book. It wasn't until Malfoy made his obligatory yearly appearance in Harry's compartment that he made himself known again.

Harry had actually been starting to feel a bit better about the present circumstances. His friends had dropped in after receiving their instructions in the prefect's car, they had gotten enormous amounts of food as always from the trolley, everyone was having a good time— and then of course Malfoy just _had_ to come and ruin it.

"What?" Harry asked aggressively before Malfoy could open his mouth.

"Manners, Potter, or I'll have to give you a detention," drawled the pale boy. "You see, I, unlike you, have the power to hand out punishments."

"Yeah," said Harry, "But you, unlike me, are a git with a complex, so why don't you go ahead and _git_ out of here. Leave us alone."

Ron, Hermione, Ginny, and Neville laughed. Malfoy's lip curled.

"Tell me, how does it feel being second-best to Weasley, Potter?" he asked. "Hermione looked like she was about to say something, but a voice from the corner beat her to it, making nearly everyone jump in the process.

"I'm sorry, what was your name again?" the professor asked cheerily, cutting off the impending fight before it could begin.

Malfoy furrowed his brow imperiously as he looked down his nose to address Hatake. "Draco Malfoy. You may have heard of my father, Lucius Malfoy; he holds a high position in the Ministry, as well as on the Board for the school. And you are?"

"Kakashi Hatake, new Professor of Self-Defense at Hogwarts this year." Malfoy's naturally pale features went first even whiter, and then nearly translucent as this was followed by, "Would you mind talking with me in the corridor for a moment?"

Desperately trying to regain the higher ground as several snorts and bursts of laughter exploded around the compartment, Malfoy gave his last remark before being shuffled out the door by the diminutive silvertop.

"It seems I'm needed elsewhere, but you might want to watch yourself, Potter, because I'll be _dogging_ your footsteps in case you step out of line."

A chill went down Harry's spine as the compartment door closed behind them. He shared a look with Hermione, and then Ron, surprisingly enough, game him a significant look, like, _don't react in front of the people who don't know,_ and then said mildly, "Chuck us another frog, yeah?"

Though he was momentarily stunned by the wisdom Rom of all people was displaying, Harry quickly recovered and shunted his worries to the back of his mind. As strange as it sounded Ron was right; they had to act normal until they could be alone to talk. Hermione also got the message and soon they were all involved in an intense game of Exploding Snap, pretending to forget Malfoy's visit entirely. None of them noticed that Professor Hatake never reappeared.

 **So yeah, that happened. Sorry it's so short, it was a full page less than the last one typed, but there's a pretty long pair coming up, so please bear with me— I should have another chapter up relatively soon-ish, homework willing.**

 **On the next couple chapters: I'm pretty proud of most of what's there, but I made a couple of rookie plot blunders that vaguely disgust me but have made themselves necessary to the story. I regret so many things about the last bit of the main scene next chapter I have no words to describe it. Please just... push through, and I hope to be able to give you better content soon? I have ideas and things, I just need the time to actually put them together...**

 **Please review with your thoughts.**


	8. Chapter 8

**Voila, another chapter!**

 **I'm getting worryingly close to the end of what I have written for this story... actually, when I first started writing this, I got out 48 pages handwritten in like three weeks, with another 32 pages in the next month after that, but typing it up has been a nightmare. I've still only got those seventy pages now, nearly two years later, though, which is about to become a problem if I don't get some more stuff put together in a semi-logical fashion soon, so fingers crossed that things start clicking in this damaged brain of mine... I've only got 14 pages left untyped...**

 **Also, a bit of... warning I guess? Um, my writing in this chapter takes a major turn for the worse. Like, a major turn. Deathly. I wrote on the notebook that I was writing this at 3:52 am on a school night kind of bad turn.**

 **I left it in, because somehow every time I've tried taking it out everything seems to stop working with what I've been able to vaguely plot out, idk why, but until I get things put together in a logical way, it's going to have to stay in there.**

 **Sorry. Please be patient.**

 **Anyway, thanks again to all those who have stuck with me through this process thus far, and I hope you enjoy reading!**

 **Disclaimer: I'm too young to have written either of these! I'm a millennium baby, I'd have to have written HP from heaven before the womb, and started Naruto when I was two! Yeah, not happening.**

Draco— he stubbornly thought of himself as Draco, even though the only people who called him by his given name were his parents and godfather— stood nervously in the corridor as the short professor sent Crabbe and Goyle away. Of he got told off here, it would be the end of his reputation at Hogwarts. Everyone would hear if the professor started yelling. And now he was alone with the man. A sick feeling began to grow in his stomach as the silver-haired professor surveyed him with a single critical eye, apparently searching for something in him that Draco couldn't even begin to guess at. Finally, just as Draco was sure he was going to vomit from sheer nerves, the man's eye closed and crinkled at the corner. Draco realized it was a smile, as viewed from one eye only.

"Draco Malfoy, did you say? Well, Draco, let's go find somewhere a little more private, then, shall we?"

Draco blinked. He'd expected an embarrassingly public put-down, perhaps mingled with a threat or two. This teacher— whose name he unfortunately hadn't bothered to listen to until after the word "professor" had caught his attention— wanted to talk with him somewhere that others wouldn't hear. What was this?

Apparently guessing at his thoughts, the man merely smiled again and said, "Come," leading him down the corridor to the back of the car. From each of the compartments they passed issued forth sounds of cheerful voices, laughing and joking with one another. When they came to the last compartment in the car, the sounds were no different, but here the professor paused and held up his hand for Draco to stop. He turned his head to listen at the door and then knocked, loudly, three times. Glancing through the glass, Draco saw that a group of five or six students were chatting happily together inside. But none of them reacted to the professor's knock.

Draco was confused, but the professor merely nodded to himself and opened the door. Draco stared.

It was empty. Instead of students, he saw several papers covered in strange characters stuck to the seats. The noise from the compartment had dropped when the door was opened, as though one had been closed. As he obeyed the teacher's gesture and moved into the compartment, he noticed the noise faded, and then ceased as the professor closed the compartment door, also adorned with inscribed paper, behind them. He realized it must be some kind of illusion made with magic, but was confused. He'd never heard of magic that could do that.

The professor let out a contented sigh as he sat down and removed the bundle on his chest wo it could play with the toys that suddenly appeared on the floor (and Draco wanted to hit himself forno noticing the baby the short man had been carrying), gesturing for Draco to sit as well. The blond chose the seat opposite of the professor.

"Now, Draco— I'm sorry, I forgot to ask, would you rather I call you Draco, or Malfoy, or something else?"

Draco stared. No one had... ever asked him that before.

"Er... Draco is fine, I suppose..." Draco stammered out, mentally berating himself for the uncertain noise. Spluttering was allowed when angry, but to betray uncertainty was to reveal vulnerability that could be taken advantage of.

"Excellent!" the professor said lightly, inordinately pleased at this, before becoming serious again. "Now, Draco, you seem a bit stressed. Is there anything I can help you with?"

...And now he was staring again.

"Professor, I'm not sure what you mean."

"Well, you see, Draco, it has been my experience that those who threaten or mock others—" Draco couldn't stop a flight blush from rising at being called out so blatantly— "Are usually afraid of being threatened or mocked themselves. Well, either that or they're bored, or crazy, but you don't come off to me as either of those," he added as an afterthought. "So what's bothering you?"

Now he was nervous again. "Nothing's bothering me professor."

The visible eyebrow furrowed, and Draco idly wondered if the other one was raised.

"Are you sure? Is it because Voldemort is staying with your family?"

It felt like a ghost had walked through him as a flash of icy terror coursed down his back. "Wh-what do you mean?"

"Oh, don't worry, I'm not going to give you away," the professor reassured him, waving off this most secret of secrets as though it were nothing, "I'm not a part of this; I'm more of a neutral party than anything. But I imagine having a very powerful, very unpredictable wanted man living in your home might be rather stressful, especially if said madman is threatening your already neglectful parents and distracting them so that you see them even less than usual."

This time Draco had the distinct impression that there was a raised eyebrow hidden behind the cloth on his forehead. He remained silent.

The professor waited a moment, then sighed. "Very well. I can see you don't want to talk about this now. But if you ever do want to talk, about this or anything else, please feel free to come and find me."

He stood and stretched a bit before sighing again. "I'd probably better stay here; Naruto will be happier with a space to play in that's not crowded with feet. You're welcome to stay as well; I just need to go take care of something really quickly." *1

Caught once again off guard, draco found himself staring at the man's back as the door closed behind him. What was he supposed to do now?

The baby— Something-Ruto? Was that Japanese?— looked at him.

He looked at the baby.

They stared at each other for what felt like an eternity.

Then they blinked in unison.

The spell broken, Ruto began looking around the room— and realized that the professor wasn't there.

Draco began to panic. He'd hardly ever seen a baby before, and rarely had he been in the same room with one. Never had he imagined being left alone with one who was about to cry, if his expression was anything to go by.

"D-don't cry, uh, Ruto?" he blurted, not sure what to do. "Uh, er, there's... you could play with this!" casting about the compartment, he noticed a small stuffed dog wearing a vest. He snatched it up and thrust it in the child's face hopefully. Ruto, surprised but pleased by the teen's franticness, giggled. Draco let out a breath; if he liked that...

Torn between hesitant relief and urgency, he snatched another toy from the ground and shoved that toward the baby as well. Another giggle prompted another toy snatched, and added to the pile.

The game continued until there were no more toys spread on the floor, all having been stacked on and around the tiny baby. Then Draco was struck by another idea. He gathered up all but three of the toys in his arms and then said, "Ready? Ready?" At Ruto's que of another giggle, he threw the toys into the air so that they showered down around the two of them. Then they began again.

They had been several times through this cycle before the professor reappeared. By this time, Draco had started making silly noises and tapping nose with each toy that had a face and making whooshing sounds and flying the non-animal toys around the room before placing them on the pile. This meant that at the sound of the compartment door sliding open, draco's "Boop!" became suddenly high pitched and the dog in the vest went flying through the air as he inadvertently released it mid-jump.

Draco wouldn't know it, but his deer-in-the-headlights expression, complete with stuffed Pakkun (sewn by none other than Konoha's most feared ninja after Kakashi himself) on top of his head and various toys littered around him and caught in his school robe would give Kakashi his first good, hearty laugh since... well, since a long time. Of course, the jounin held it in for now, he wouldn't laugh about it until later that night, but rarely was he ever more thankful for his eidetic memory than at that moment.

Presently, Draco's normally rice paper-pale complexion was flushing tomato red as he scrambled back to the seat behind him from where he'd been kneeling on the floor— he didn't even remember moving down there in the first place!— and he was spluttering half-formed words to try and excuse his undignified circumstances.

"I was— I mean, the— he, er— I—"

The professor took pity on the poor boy and interrupted him. "Don't worry; Naruto has that effect on people."

Draco stopped trying to speak and settled for blushing furiously with his hands curled into fists at his sides. His father would be so disappointed in him— Malfoys never lost their dignity, not even in front of crying children. He'd ruined everything and now this new teacher (what was his name?! He'd messed that up too) would think he was just some stupid child who couldn't maintain his composure for even a few minutes and—

"Would you like to hold him?"

Draco jumped again, so surprised that the flush vanished from his cheeks— and his downward-spiralling thoughts with it. "Wh-what?"

The professor looked at him gently and repeated, "He seems to like you. Would you like to hold him?"

Cautious, Draco considered. He'd never held a baby before. He had no clue what it would be like. And even though he and Ruto— Naruto, he corrected himself— had been alone for several minutes, he hadn't dared to touch him at all, even when the little boy had tried to grab his fingers. He'd been too afraid. But if the professor was here, and he said it was okay...

Hesitantly, he nodded.

The professor picked up Naruto under the arms and gently set him in Draco's lap. At first he was tense; this tiny, squishy being who laughed so much seemed so fragile. What if he didn't do it right? But as he slowly realized and Naruto began babbling and playing with his fingers, Draco realized he felt happy. It wasn't a feeling he was used to.

A shy smile made its way onto his face without his knowledge or permission.

"Thank you, professor."

The short man sitting across from him shrugged and stretched a little. "Maa," he said, letting a little bit of his regular self emerge over the act, "Professor makes me sound so old. Just call me Kakashi-sensei."

Draco's smile took on a slightly mischievous hint. "Arigato, Kakashi-sensei, then." This time he had no trouble recognizing the raised eyebrow— surprised this time— and the pleased gleam in the visible eye. He flushed slightly, torn between embarrassment and pride at pleasing this kind new influence in his life. "I— I like languages. I study them when my father's too busy to notice— which is most of the time."*2

Kakashi-sensei nodded. "Good job; your inflection and pronunciation were spot-on. Was it the names that gave it away?"

Draco nodded distractedly, grinning for the first time since he was a very small child as Naruto tried to fit an entire tiny fist in his mouth. Kakashi-sensei hummed musingly.

They sat in comfortable silence as Naruto continued his efforts for several minutes.

Finally, Kakashi-sensei spoke. "Since you know some Japanese, how would you feel if I called you Ryuu-san, or Ryuu-kun? It means the same as your name, but I think it suits you a little better."*3

Ryuu-kun gave a tiny, embarrassed, "Okay." He'd never had a nickname before.

The gruin was back as he handed the stuffed dog in the vest to Naruto in response to his reaching and grunting. He had a feeling this might just actually be a good year.

Kakashi reluctantly bade Ryuu-kun "See you soon" and speedily packed all of his effects back into the sealing-scroll-ception in his kunai pouch and Naruto into his sling so he could set out for the castle when the train stopped. He hovered invisibly around Potter and his group as they boarded the zombie-drawn carriages, noting that Ron-kun— he merited a first-name acknowledgement, having spent much of the last week following Kakashi around admiringly— couldn't see dead horses.

What's the point of creatures that some people can see and some people can't pulling the carriages? Kakashi wondered briefly before putting it down to availability. Then, having seen that the six had gotten safely into their carriage, Kakashi shunshinned to the great hall to take his seat at the staff table.

Greeting several staff members who had met the shadow clones he had sent ahead over the last week to scout the premises, Kakashi was instantly aware of the pink, toadlike threat sat down near the other end of the tabel. His instincts screamed at him to keep out of its way until it could be analyzed and strategically handled, and he managed to avoid confrontation before the feast.

The Sorting and its following dinner went manficently, in Kakashi's opinion, as he conversed comfortably with the other staff, "Professor Hatake" firmly in place. Naruto, although confined to a baby chair lower than the table, was content to devour whatever mush Kakashi glopped onto his spoon, and Kakashi managed to keep the stuffed Pakkun, who always joined them for spoon-fed meals, and occasionally bottle-fed ones too, completely mush-free for once. He had filed away the Sorting Hat's song for later examination as a point of interest, but nothing else really stood out to him as being particularly of note.

After dinner was a different matter.

Although he carefully kept an absentminded air, he listened alertly to ever detail of the pink thing's speech, analyzing obsessively. Afterward, when his name was announced, he stood and bowed in greeting, giving his usual peace-salute before sitting down, but his mind was still racing. Dumbledore-san had warned him that he had become aware of impending interference by the Ministry of Magic but wasn't sure of what form it would take. Now they knew.

That night as he put Naruto to bed, Kakashi wondered what this pink thing wass planning, exactly— and how best he could keep off its radar and fulfill the mission. He started planning.

Also, a small part of him cheered that Naruto was actually tired tonight. He wouldn't be awake until dawn! He mused as he fell asleep that he might actually be on time to his first class tomorrow.

 **Sooo yeah. That happened.**

 **Have you ever had one of those days where you're so tired that suddenly "There was some important stuff hidden in the waffle," said Hermione grimly is hilarious because she just said "Hidden in the waffle" grimly? or really, just the word Waffle being said grimly. Is hilarious.**

 **Heheheheh...**

 **Um.**

 **Well.**

 **I'm not really sure what... I mean, I remember writing this at dark-o'-clock in the morning on a school night. And then... the characters kind of ran away with it?**

 **I don't know, it all feels a little bit random and out-of-character and weird, and it really kind of bothers me because I feel like giving characters new nicknames from characters who don't normally give nicknames is actually really bad writing, but my goal with this was to practice getting my first draft out without stressing too much over the details? And it is going to undergo a revamp once I finish it; that's been the plan from the beginning, but until I get an actual beta reader who does more than nod and give an ambiguous thumbs up, this is what I got. There's another thing coming next chapter as well that I kind of apologize for, but I'm just going to go with it for now? I guess?**

 **I don't know. I'm sorry.**

 **I got a couple comments about Draco getting taken down a few notches by Kakashi, and I promise that will happen at some point. But think about it: how well do you respond to someone you don't even know telling you you're doing everything wrong, you're a jerk and you need to fix yourself? Not well! It's completely ineffective! So Kakashi, manipulative little genius that he is, is going to first connect with Draco and show him that he actually cares about him, and then tell him to fix himself. One conversation is not going to be enough to fix this kid. And that is actually my goal— don't just tell him off and let him continue being a jerk and a bully, actually get him to stop.**

 **What do you guys think? Can I get some con-crit and suggestions? It all seems to fall apart when I take the language thing and the nickname out, for some reason, which is really frustrating, but it's also really bad writing to screw with a character that way. If he were my own character, I could do that, because up to book six he's actually super one-dimensional and bratty, but since he's someone else's, it's just badly done. It's even badly delivered, since it turns our bratty one-dimensional Jerkass character into a Woobie; it's like the epitome of Draco in Leather Pants (see TVTropes if you've never heard of those character archetypes), which is just a weak move. I mean, I don't always object to Draco in Leather Pants as long as it's done well, but I did it not just badly but wrong and I'm legitimately upset with myself over it.**

 **So... yeah. I can pretty much guarantee that any suggestions won't go in until the redo, but I will probably use several eventually if I get any. Also if anyone disagrees with me or actually thinks it's okay (I'll be surprised, but I'm open to it) tell me and I'll consider just changing the delivery. This is really going to come down to the response I get how much I change it.**

 **Thank you guys for your patience with me.**

 **The following are things I wrote in my notebook off to the side that I thought were vaguely kind of funny and so put in for you guys. Enjoy.**

 ***1:**

 **Me: Kakashi, what are you doing?**

 **Kakashi: I'm leaving Naruto with Ry— I mean Draco.**

 **Me: But— but— but— Kashi, Ruto's only, like, 9 months old! He's only been crawling for two months! You're supposed to be super over-protective of him, not leave him with some random fifteen-year-old kid to convince him you trust him!**

 **Kakashi: He's a year older than me.**

 **Me: That doesn't matter! You're supposed to be the responsible party!**

 ***2:**

 **Me: You what.**

 **Draco: I like languages.**

 **Kakashi: He likes languages.**

 **Me: I saw. Since when, exactly?**

 **Draco: Since now.**

 **Kakashi: *grabs Draco and shunshins away***

 ***3:**

 **Me: Kakashi, what. did. you. do.**

 **Kakashi: All the things, Ricku-san; All the things.**

 **Kakashi: *shunshins away***

 **Me: Blast that man...**


	9. Chapter 9

**Holy _reviews_ , Batman! **

**Guys, I love you all so much. My mind has been _blown_ by how much feedback I've gotten. I promise I'm taking notes for the rewrite, and some things are actually pestering me enough that they might get in before then, so fingers crossed on that, but I just- wow. I'm so happy every time I get a review, it's actually increasing my productivity. Like, I get tired or frustrated, and then I just go and reread reviews people have written, and suddenly I can write more; no joke. I just- wow.**

 ** _Thank you._**

 **Now on to the actual notes on the chapter:**

 **This started as an omake and turned into an actual chapter.**

 **If you guys haven't noticed, I write mostly in (probably rather badly done) third person omniscient. This means that you see several characters' thoughts at a time, rather than just one, like Rowling does with her third person limited throughout all of the HP canon (cursed child is a lie which broke too many already-established rules to be counted as in-universe). So here we have a side thing, outside of our normal characters' POVs, in which Ron is a little more responsible and a little more patient and goes and confronts Seamus about what happened with Harry. I could give you a rant about Rowling's handling of not-Harry characters, but I'll spare you guys that.**

 **(It'll probably show up somewhere later, maybe in another fic, or possibly on Tumblr or AO3 instead of here. We'll see.)**

 **Sorry-not-sorry for once, because I stand by a lot of things said in this chapter, but I feel like the delivery is weak and rambly, so I do apologize for that.**

 **Disclaimer: Nope. I got nothing. Sorry. This would be so different if I had written it, it's not even funny.**

Ron sighed as he looked at his best friend's bed hangings still swinging from the force they'd been drawn with. He didn't know how to help Harry; what could he say to someone who was literally being turned against on every side?

Seamus had stormed downstairs, closely followed by Dean as he tried to get his friend to calm down. After deliberating a moment, Ron followed.

Dean was speaking quietly to Seamus, who had his arms crossed, clearly still fuming. Ron hesitated, then knocked on the wall beside the stairs to get the pair's attention. Seamus looked up at him, glared, and looked away again, back toward the fire, crossing his arms tighter. Dean sighed and gestured for Ron to sit down.

Easing himself into the chair across from them, Ron took a deep breath and let it out. Then he started speaking.

"Look, mate, I'm sorry about what happened up there. I don't like the way it ended, and I want to try and understand your side of it, and maybe help you understand Harry's side as well. I know—" he added as Seamus opened his mouth angrily to let out what Ron know was going to be a biting retort— " I know you're upset. I wasn't there at the start of it, but I can guess that you feel like he jumped on you or something you said without considering your part of it. Actually, I'm betting that's _exactly_ what he did. But I want to hear your side of it from you, without any _ever._ accusations or angry words, because I think there' been enough of that tonight, yeah?"

Seamus shifted, appearing to struggle with himself for a moment, before taking a few deep breaths to calm himself.

"Yeah, okay."

Ron mentally sighed with relief before shifting his attention back to Seamus; maybe he could get ahold of this prefect thing after all.

"We were talking about how our holidays were, and I mentioned that me mam didn't want me to come back to Hogwarts. He guessed— well, I mean, why else? O' course it was because of what he an' Dumbledore've been sayin'. An', you know, I was jes' curious, 'cause I don' _want_ me mam to be right about this— Harry's been a mostly decent fellow, you know, and so I asked— an' he jes' shut down! Blew up about the whole thing and wouldn't answer me at all! An' then you showed up and ended it, but it was— well, I just wanted to know!"

Ron nodded, listening patiently. When seamus had finished he sighed and ran a hand through his hair. Now came the hard part.

"That was pretty much what I expected. You said you were talking about how your holidays went; what did he say?"

Seamus and Dean exchanged a curious glance.

"He said it wasn't bad... but he kind of looked more like he didn't want to talk about it," Dean said.

"Yeah..." Ron sighed again. "He probably didn't. Harry _never_ has a good summer holiday— _ever_. My mum gets him to ours as soon as she can every year, but this time it was almost half August before he could come."

"What d'you mean?" Seamus looked baffled.

Some of Ron's impatience slipped out against his control. "Look, before this year, what was Harry famous for?"

After a moment's hesitation, Dean answered, "You-Know-Who tried to kill him when he was a baby, right? But for some reason, the spell rebounded and destroyed You-Know-Who instead."

Ron nodded. "Yeah, but did you ever really think about how You-Know-Who got to where he could try to kill him?"

It took a moment, but the two of them looked stunned as they made the connection.

"You mean—" Seamus broke off as it truly dawned on him for the first time.

"You-Know-Who killed Harry's parents." Ron finished Seamus' thought for him. "You probably had heard it before, but it's hard to make the connection to where you actually _realize_ it because he never talks about it. He lives with his mum's muggle sister and her muggle family, and they _hate_ magic. In fact, the only thing they hate more than magic is Harry himself." Seeing their alarmed but comprehending expressions, Ron knew the thought had never occurred to them that the most famous person in school besides the Headmaster himself might have an unhappy home life. Still, he could tell they weren't quite getting the scope of it. "Here, let me put it this way: before first year, his bedroom was a closet a bit smaller than that couch." He gestured to the furniture the two were seated on. "His cousin— who's _huge_ by the way; I'm talking bigger than Crabbe and Goyle _combined_ —" Seamus and Dean's eyes widened in astonishment— "Used to _beat_ him, and his aunt and uncle actually _encouraged_ it. Last I heard he still _does_ beat him, any time he can catch him without his wand." Seeing they were about to interrupt, Ron plowed ahead, "Summer before second year I got worried 'cause I didn't hear from him all summer, and Hermione said she hadn't either, so Fred, George and I stole my dad's care that he'd enchanted to fly and flew it all the way to his aunt and uncle's house. When we got there, we found _bars_ on his window. They'd locked him in his room and only let him out to use the toilet twice a day. Summer after second, " he pressed through their questions, "he actually tried to run away— and managed it, for a little while. But then third year came and went and he got sent right back. Summer after third was probably harry's only "not bad" summer holiday _ever—_ they mostly left him alone, even if he had to do his summer homework i the middle of the night if he didn't want them to tear it up— but then last summer... well, this was probably the worst yet, if that's even possible."

Seamus and Dean had given up on trying to speak over him, too disturbed for words. Now, Dean had to swallow before speaking.

"...What happened?"

Ron sighed. "Dementors. Dementors showed up in his neighborhood, Which means that either the Ministry can't control them, or someone within the Ministry sent them, and they've denied it ever happened, so I know what I'd lay my money on. They've already got a smear campaign going, why not make him sound even more like a raving lunatic?"

There was silence for a moment as they processed, then Seamus spoke.

"And you believe him about all this?"

Ron shook his head. "I don't have to. I saw the bars on the window, and watched him pull his school stuff out of the loose floorboard he keeps it in over summers. He doesn't even know I know most of this stuff, but when I surprise him, he lets some things slip. He's really reluctant for anyone to know, but he doesn't keep track of who he's told what at all. I don't think anyone noticed, but at the beginning of first year, he was covered in bruises and thrings. And Hermione has to fix his glasses literally _every year_ because his cousin breaks them so often. Besides, people always seem to forget: I've _seen_ Harry in stressful situations. I know how he acts, and I can honestly say that it's the after-effects that hit him hardest."

"What do you—"

The tenuous hold Ron was holding on his temper burst, and with it came the words— the ones he'd choked on so many times since first year, the ones that had made him lose track of what was most important to him last year:

" _I was with him!_ Why does everyone always forget that? Hermione and I were _always_ there, by his side, fighting the same things he fought as long as we could! _I_ beat the chess pieces in first year! _I_ went down to the Chamber with him in second to save _my_ sister— it wasn't some random, idiotic hero-sacrifice from him for no reason! _I_ was with him when everything went down in third year— that's why I was in the hospital wing with a _bloody_ broken leg! I was even part of the _bloody_ second task last year if you'll recall, and even if I was out of it for most of that one— I _bloody well know what he's like under pressure_ , because I'm one of the only two who have _seen_ him there, instead of hearing about it from bloody _rumors_ because somebody happens to listen in at the Hospital wing we wind up in _every. damn._ _year."_ Finally cutting himself off to breathe, Ron snagged control of his ever-explosive temper and got back to his actual point. His eternal place in the background wasn't the issue here, Harry's position as Butt-Monkey of the Universe was. "So I can tell you what he's like, okay? He's stressed when the shite's actually happening, yeah, but he's pretty coolheaded overall. He thinks fast. Honestly spends most of it looking like he's really confused over why it's _always him_ all the bloody damn time even as he's being all determined and heroic, and sometimes blowing his top at whoever the bad guy of the year is. But after? When we're spending the night in the hospital wing, or even when we get back to the dorms after it's all over? He gets nightmares, all. The damn. Time. And I don't blame him— I've gotten plenty of my fair share after all the shite we've seen.

"But last year, it was different. Because this time we weren't there; not Hermione, not me, and last year for the first time somebody bloody _died,_ _right in front of him._ And he could do _nothing_ to stop it. Even if it was half August when we got him out this summer, I still spent the last week and a half sleeping in the same room as him, listening to him wake up in the middle of trying to rescue Cedric _every night._ Seamus—" he met the other boy's eyes, trying to make this point hit home. "What you said _hurt_ Harry. Really hurt him, deeper than you'd ever guess. Me? I go home every summer to a mum who's busy, sure, with all the trouble the twins get into and trying to keep an eye on Ginny and everything, but she _cares_ that I get nightmares. She takes time to wake up in the middle of the night and help me feel safe. Harry doesn't have that, and even when he's with us, he wouldn't let mum find out he was awake if he was going to die in the next hour. He figures what she doesn't know won't hurt either of them. Our world— the Wizarding world— is the _best_ thing that's ever happened to him, and even though he's nearly _died_ every year here, at least somebody _cares_ that he's hurt. Somebody _notices_ without him having to say anything, which is _important._ The muggle world is _so_ messed up for him, and this was the only place he could feel safe and cared for, even _with_ the near-death experiences. Now, that's just _gone._ Do you understand that?" He couldn't know it, but there was a slightly lost, hopeless look in Ron's eyes. " _Can_ you understand that?"

Seamus was looking at the ground, all the anger gone out of him, having been replaced with a sense of regret he couldn't fully have put into words. Dean watched his friend, willing him to try to make it better somehow. Ron watched anxiously, feeling drained.

Finally, Seamus said, "What should I do?"

Ron sagged slightly with relief. "Honestly, right now the best thing would be to back off for a little while. When we finally got him to our house this summer, he'd already started this... short tempered kick. It's kind of been building since third year, mum would probably say it's a hormonal thing— mostly I'm just surprised it's taken this long. Anyone else with his life probably would have given up on a lot of things, even before getting to Hogwarts. Until he calms down a bit, you know, reconnects with people he's forgotten actually care about what happens to him, it's probably best that you try to stay a little bit back and work on your apology."

Seamus nodded. Thoughtful, he bade them a good night and vanished up the common room stairs. As they moved to follow him, Dean asked Ron one last question.

"How'd you know?"

"What?"

"Where'd you get all that stuff about the... what he's thinking and such?"

Ron looked a little embarrassed as he answered. "I've read a bit about psychology and human trauma response, is all. Hermione lets me borrow some of her muggle texts over the summer, and once she found out I was interested, well... I've been able to connect some things, is all." ***1**

Dean raised his eyebrows slightly in only somewhat sceptical surprise before shrugging it off, and exited the common room.

Ron sighed, staring dully at the fire in the grate for a moment.

"Why can't I be good at something I'm interested in?" he asked the fading light. "Or am I not supposed to be interested in smart, complicated things?"

The dying embers didn't answer him, so he shook the dark thoughts away and marched up the stairs to find his cozy four-poster and its best mate the pillow.

 **Eheheh. Yeah.**

 **Do I actually think Canon!Ron is into psychology?**

 **Heck no. It was just a random thing my brain came up with in the middle of a "But how can we actually make them all** _ **more mentally and emotionally stable?**_ **" because as much as I love torturing all my characters, I really do it with the end goal of making their lives better eventually, so this made things work a little better. It's clunky and awkward, I know, but it's what I got for now. Most of what he will say in this story are my own rambling non-professional conjectures based on my own experience with emotional abuse and trauma, although some of it can be found in various child, teen, and trauma psychology books I read before my car accident wiped things like titles and time from my brain. If you'd like to read them, I'm afraid I really can't help a lot, but they do exist somewhere. (so helpful, I know.)**

 **I'm doing a lot of this because I think Ron (and most other characters, actually) were a little weirdly handled throughout the books. It's pretty well explainable by the limited-perspective nature of them, but still kind of frustrating to deal with. We see everyone from Harry's point of view, and he doesn't understand a lot of peoples' reasonings and/or actions. In fact, he very rarely tries to get inside someone's head and think about what their motivations might be. It's understandable, since he's a teenager and not an author, but still. Things like—**

 **Chess. You have to be at least fairly intelligent to be that good at chess at _eleven years old._ And yet Ron is treated as kind of below-average and ignorant.**

 _ **Dumbledore chose him as a Prefect.**_ **Now, yes, Dumbledore is another mess all his own in the way he's dealt with both in canon and by the fandom, but still. This is a man renowned for his brilliance and coolheadedness, who tells Harry that he didn't choose him as Prefect** _ **because he had too much on his plate already.**_ **But throughout the entire series, Harry actually shows very little responsibility? Like, he's a typical teenager in regards to homework and things, but he actually doesn't take** _ **any kind of responsibility for his actions**_ **most of the time, and that's just** _ **fine**_ **with people, I get it, but Harry would** _ **not**_ **have been my first choice as Prefect for Harry's year. In fact, I kind of think Ron makes** _ **sense**_ **as Prefect, given that he obviously has some ability to take responsibility for his own actions and resolve conflicts, as we can see** _ **every freaking time he puts up with Harry's temper tantrums.**_ **And even though Ron is very human and gives in to his overwhelming feelings of eternal damnation to the Background Of Everything on several occasions, he also tries to fix whatever has happened and concludes everything with reunification as soon as possible after he gets his head out of his ass. Which is (excuse my language) a** _ **lot fucking sooner**_ **than Harry ever does. I don't think we see a single example of his extending the metaphorical olive branch before the other party in any situation. In fact, he seems more likely to hold grudges than I** _ **think**_ **just about anyone else in the books. (granted, I haven't read through the books since my accident, but still. If I'm wrong, please correct me.)**

 **Aaand I'm going to stop there, because I don't actually want this to get longer than the chapter itself. Like I say, I'll probably post the full rant somewhere else if anyone cares, but whatever, it may never happen too. Long story short, though, I wanted him to be a more forefrontal part of this story, because as weirdly handled as he is in the books (and don't let me start on the movies), he's still a pretty major plot-player. I hope to do the same thing with Hermione- and even some other more minor characters- in some way, I just haven't quite worked out how yet.**

 **Meh. It'll come to me eventually, I'm sure.**

 **It'll probably be a little while to the next chapter because it's my final semester of Senior year and I still need half a credit of science, a credit of history, a CTE credit, and** _ **two**_ **credits of math... I'm going to be drowning in packets for a while. I'll update as soon as I can, and the next chapter or so will start getting into actual plot instead of just background and setup stuff, so at least you have that to look forward to? I'll try to keep it under two months though...**

 **Ramblings from the Notebook Margins:**

 ***1**

 **Me: R o n . . .**

 **Ron: Yes?**

 **Me: You** _ **hate**_ **reading.**

 **Ron: Not about psychology, I don't ;)**

 **Me: rOnALd...**

 **Kakashi: *** _ **shunshins**_ **in, snatches Ron, and disappears again***

 **Me:** _ **Kakashi!**_ **[ (VVVV) ]/**


	10. ANNOUNCEMENT

Guys, gUYS GUYS I JUST FIGURED MY LIFE OUT!

So, it's kind of a really long story that covers my entire life up to this point, but basically there's this really obscure and not very talked about form of gluten intolerance in which basically the antibodies in a person's body that are supposed to attack like viruses and evil bacteria and stuff think that gluten is an enemy when it enters the bloodstream, and then they can't tell the difference between gluten cells and brain cells so they start eating your brain. And I have apparently had this my entire life, which means that every time I was enjoying a donut or sandwich or whatever I was literally having my brain eaten alive as I incurred permanent brain damage. Fortunately, kids' brains are really awesome and have a lot of what is called _neuroplasticity,_ which can be summed up as being able to compensate for the terrible things that happen to their brain. So I would eat gluten all day, and then my brain would fix itself during the night. Every day and every night. Which is pretty impressive, given how little I've slept for the majority of my life.

ANYWAY, so I had this really major car accident two years ago, where I got conked on the head really hard and like went blind in one eye for a while and stopped being able to recognize people and voices and things and it was really exciting and all that. But you know what else it did? It stopped my brain from being able to rebuild as much and as fast as it could before. Which means that for the last two years, I've been acting progressively more and more like my grandfather who has progressive dementia. It got to the point that I could barely introduce myself because I couldn't remember my own name half the time! It was kind of awful (understatement). But then we figured out this gluten thing and now I've been gluten free for like three or four weeks and for the first time since the accident I've suddenly been able to do exciting things like _count to ten_ and _add 4+5._ I've even been less depressed/anxious/suicidal since going off gluten! It's been so amazing.

But why do you care? Here's what else has happened as a result of this:

I

ACTUALLY

HAVE

A

 **PLOT**

NOW!

Because now that my brain isn't eating itself alive, I can now expend mental energy on things like _where is this story even going_ and _how do I get rid of this ooc-ness?_

And I've got it figured out.

Now, this means it'll be a few months until next update while I do silly things like graduate high school and flesh out story and stuff, and for that I sincerely apologize. But for the first time since starting these stories, I now have the confidence and ability to say: **_they will be completed._**

The writing voice will probably be a little different, and when I come back with the new and improved _completed story_ it won't be exactly what it was before. But now that I've been able to actually flesh out and solidify things in my mind that will hopefully make several universes make more sense, the story will be much more rich and deep. At least, that's the idea.

Thank you all so much for your patience and support, and I really am sorry for the delay, but I hope it'll be worth it to you and I both in the end!

—Rick


End file.
